The notebook
by The Mayor's Daughter
Summary: Myk loses her notebook, and who should pick it up but our one and only Lash Livingston? Oh, boy.


Herro.

This is dedicated to anyone who's ever lost their _notebook_, you know the one I'm talking about. I lost mine last year in third period, Heidi lost hers on the bus, and I'm sure you've lost yours somewhere along those lines.

The fact is it sucks to get a notebook lost or stolen.

so, vengence.

---

"Oh _no," _Myk's jaw dropped in horror as she sat up in her chair.

"What?" Ivy whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"I lost my notebook," Myk's voice shook a little.

"Go to WalMart and get a new one."

"My _note_book," My urged.

"_Oh."_

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit."

"Miss Peterson!" Chimed Mr. Medulla from the front of the class room. " Something you'd like to share?"

"Not entirely," Myk slumped in her chair.

"Theeennnnnn zippit!" Mr. Medulla curtly turned back to the board.

**What am I gonna do?**

Myk passed a note to Ivy.

**Look every where, ask people, check the lost and found.**

Ivy passed back.

**That notebook was full of bad ass drawings and little stories. They wont just **_**give it back.**_

Myk slid the note harshly across the table

**Well, just keep an eye out.**

Ivy wouldn't pass any more notes, and she only stared straight ahead because Mr. Medulla was giving them "the eye".

Myk kept an eye out for her notebook, and suddenly it seemed _every_one carried their books. Anyone could have it. Myk was on the verge of hyperventilating when she saw it. It was sticking out of a text book, almost _dangling_ at someone's hip. Someone was abusing her notebook. _Her_ notebook.

To be precise, her notebook was like her life. There was graffiti, pop art, and abstract drawings galore. Poems and short stories skirted around the depths, and realistic drawings laced it, like an atmosphere. Who would dare abuse such a precious, fragile thing?

Myk followed the stripped sleeves up to the purple polo shirt all the way up to that face. That _face._

That face that belongs to the one and only Lash Livingston.

OH. _NO._

Myk shuddered on the inside. No _way_ would he give her notebook back, not unless she gave a sidekick a swirly, probably. But she couldn't do that, she refused to stoop that _low._ Myk's insides twisted around, all telling her to do something different.

But she settled on one thing.

Steal it back.

Myk couldn't't simply _ask _for it back. She'd know Lash ever since pre-school, and ever since he'd belched right in her face, on _purpose,_ she'd stopped speaking to him. So she couldn't just _ask_ him for it. He'd probably just burp in her face again and walk away. Oh, no, that would not be happening.

Myk sucked in a deep breath and turned on her heel, stomping to her next class.

It couldn't be done sloppily. Everyone knew lash was the KING of stealing, so it couldn't just be _done._ Myk spent a chosen two weeks watching Lash inconspicuously, picking up his habits. How he put his stuff down at lunch, did he keep it in his locker? How often did he take things and put things in his locker? Did he keep a close eye on his belongings? Did he ever leave it un-supervised?

Finally the day came. Myk found that at lunch, Lash and Speed would stop by their secluded table, dump their stuff and go get in the lunch line. They'd be gone six minutes and 42 seconds on average, plenty of time for Myk to get her notebook and get out.

As scheduled, Lash and Speed walked up to their table. Myk was hiding behind a near pillar, waiting. They dumped their things; there it was it slid half out of the text book upon table collision, and it was calling, waiting. Myk waited until Lash and Speed were out of sight to make her move.

Myk tip-toed, actually tip-toed, to the table and slowly, slowly, slowly put her hand on her notebook. A wave of relief crashed down on her and once again she felt complete. She started sliding in from between the notebooks pages, and she nearly screamed when a hand crashed down on her shoulder.

"_Hey,_" The voice behind her dripped with venom. Slowly, slowly, slowly Myk turned around.

"That's. Mine," Lash Livingston glared down at Myk.

"No. It's mine," Myk tried not to stutter.

"So I forget my money and this is what I get?" Lash shook his head incredulously.

_Oh, _Myk thought, _Of course. Of course TODAY you forget your money, and of course TODAY I try to get my notebook back. OH. OF COURSE._

"It's _mine,_" Myk growled and Lash's eyes narrowed down at her.

"Finders. Keepers," Lash bent down, leveling their eye sight.

"Don't I know you?" Lash said softly, mostly to himself.

"Y-no," Myk firmly clutched her notebook behind her back. Over and over in her head she was screaming GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT.

"Oh I know. You're that girl from pre-school I burped on. I do declare this is the first time you've spoken to me since then," Lash chuckled menacingly.

"I intend to keep it that way," Myk rolled her shoulder to shrug Lash's hand off.

"_NO,"_ Lash swung Myk around and her back crashed unpleasantly against the pillar that had once been her hiding spot.

"Get out!" Myk finally said out loud.

"I'm gonna teach you a lesson, little snitch. Not only did you _steal_ from me-"

"I didn't _steal_ it's MINE!"

"NOT ONLY DID YOU STEAL FROM ME, you don't _talk_ to me. And no girls _don't_ talk to Lash Livingston. All girls _talk_ to Lash and I'm going to teach you why," Lash dug his fingernails into Myk's shoulders.

"FUCK YOU!" Myk all but screamed before Lash's mouth covered her own. The kiss, if you could call it that, was much too rough for Myk's taste. Lash was pinching her lip hard with his teeth, and Myk recognized the salty taste of blood in her mouth.

_Well fuck _me, She thought, internally rolling her eyes.

Lash backed off sharply, glaring and smirking down at Myk, like he thought he'd actually _won_.

"All girls talk to Lash,"He repeated, again with the third person. He tried to reach around for the notebook, but Myk, finally free from his grasp, slid swiftly out of reach.

"Fuck you, I don't," Myk pivoted on her heel. She could hear the steam coming out of Lash's ears; and she took anywhere from three to five steps before turning her head over her shoulder and murmured,

"And I intend to keep it that way."

---

review, my lovelies


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